


Don't Fear The Prophecy

by HollowpointHeart



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 12:37:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16086251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowpointHeart/pseuds/HollowpointHeart
Summary: Five times Todd said no, and the one time he said yes.





	Don't Fear The Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capncrystal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capncrystal/gifts).



> my very very late submission for the junebug fic exchange me and some friends did. the prompt i chose was anything pepito/squee, and i love my tiny gay sons.
> 
> shout out to dez for helping me bounce ideas and generally being a cheerleader through this, i love you
> 
> ummmm..... i think that's it, i hope everyone enjoys!

Pepito doesn’t like funerals. He doesn’t like being forced into nice clothes, he doesn’t like the stuffy, fake sad air in the rooms he’s shuffled through, and he doesn’t like having to pretend to be sorry that someone whose soul is already on a well deserved trip to damnation is dead. Todd’s mom in this case, dead before her son’s eleventh birthday. She died of a drug overdose, accidental or suicide, Pepito’s not sure, and Mother won’t let Father tell him. Either way, no one seems surprised by the whole affair. The only person who even looks sad is Todd, but speaking of…

Pepito looks around the Casils’ cramped living room, between black clad bodies. Leading up to the actual service (only his mom had been able to go to the actual funeral, holy ground and all that), Todd had been glued to his dad’s side, sniffling the whole time, but now he’s vanished. Knowing him, he’ll get abducted again if left alone too long.

“I’m going to find Todd,” he announces to his parents, and pretends not to hear the reluctance in his father’s voice when they respond. He’s been keeping an annoyingly close eye on Pepito’s friendship with Todd since that disastrous job offer in third grade, telling Pepito he should find a new Prophet. It’s frustrating.

Upstairs is quieter, not that downstairs was really loud, but it’s not as crowded up here. Pepito can breathe without coughing on old lady perfume. Of the three doors on the landing, it’s pretty clear which one is Todd’s. A graveyard of drawings covers it, little bits of tape with scraps clinging to them with two that haven’t been ripped down yet. They’re pretty good, but Todd’s strength is definitely in writing. Pepito walks in without knocking.

His first thought is that the wallpaper is vile, and he makes a mental note to suggest it as a punishment. Father’s been encouraging him to come up with some of his own. Pepito’s second thought is that Todd looks terrible. He’s not crying anymore, just curled on his side on his bed and staring at the opposite wall with a ragged teddy bear clutched in his arms. Clearly, this is a situation that calls for tact.

“What’s wrong, Squee?”

Todd jumps so hard he lifts off the mattress, then gives Pepito a look like he’s the biggest idiot he’s ever met.

Okay, so Pepito’s not good at this tact thing, sue him.

“I miss my mom,” Todd says, and his voice sounds wrecked to hell. Pepito sits on the edge of his bed.

“Why?” he asks.

Todd gives him an incredulous look, grief temporarily replaced by anger. “Because she was my _mom_.”

“So?” Pepito shrugs. “She didn’t love you. She ignored you half the time and hated you the other.”

Todd sits up and glares at him, hands clenched into fists. Pepito wonders if he’s going to slap him. He probably deserves it.

“That’s not true!” Doubt flickers over his face, and his hands unclench. “It’s complicated.”

Todd flops back on the bed, staring at the ceiling now, and pokes at Pepito with a sock clad foot. He must’ve ditched his shoes somewhere. Pepito stares at the warm skin of his thin ankle and feels the strangest urge to touch it, just to see what would happen. Probably Todd would pull away, he’s too nice to kick Pepito.

“Would it make you feel better or worse to know she’s in Hell?” Pepito asks. Todd sighs long and heavy.

“I don’t know,” he says after a while. “Should I know?”

“I don’t know,” Pepito says.

They sit in quiet for a few more minutes, listening to the talking downstairs, lost in their own thoughts, until Pepito gets restless.

“You should come with me,” he blurts.

Todd jumps a bit, but not as bad as last time. “Now isn’t a good time-”

Pepito waves away his protest. “Not to my house,” he clarifies. “To Hell. Join me. You’ll be free from pain like this. Nothing will hurt you.”

Todd frowns, almost looking hurt, and Pepito feels… guilty? His gut feels squirmy and his chest feels kind of tight. Is this guilt? It could just be food poisoning, some of the casseroles downstairs did look sketchy.

“I already said no thanks,” Todd says. “Besides, emotions are what make us human. I don’t want to lose that. I’m sorry, but my answer’s still no.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“I think you should leave,” Todd interrupts. He rolls over, back to the corner, still facing the opposite wall, and closes his eyes. 

Well. Pepito can take a hint. He gets up, brushing wrinkles out of his pants, and walks towards the door. As he opens it, he thinks he hears a soft “goodbye” from the direction of he Todd shaped lump on the mattress.

“Goodbye,” he says, just in case he’s right, and especially if he’s wrong.

***

Todd withdraws from Pepito during the next few months. They still talk at school, and Pepito is still the only one who works with him on projects, but Todd stops coming over to his house after school. He doesn’t even hesitate to refuse when Pepito offers up a Star Wars marathon, which totally should have worked, Todd loves those movies and knows Pepito would never agree to watch them if Todd offered. They’re so cheesy and the prequels are even worse, the special effects are so bad and-

Where was he going with this?

Right, yeah, Todd avoiding him. So Todd’s been avoiding him for a few months now, ever since Pepito repeated his offer of working with him in Hell, and it’s starting to seep into school too. Like just now! Todd’s sitting under a tree, reading, and ignores all of the ‘come here’ gestures Pepito’s making. 

Pepito crosses his arms and scowls at a clique of seventh grade girls, standing in a circle and gossiping. He considers listening to them, tuning in like a bad radio show, but he’s distracted by a group of boys from one of his and Todd’s shared classes heading over to where Todd is reading. One of them says something that makes Todd glance up before looking back down very quickly. 

The same boy kicks Todd’s book out of his hands, and Pepito lurches to his feet and crosses the brown grass field before he’s really made the decision. Todd catches his eye and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Pepito ignores him. As he gets closer, he can hear what the boys are saying.

“-bet his mommy killed herself because he’s such a bitch ass nerd.”

The boys laugh, and Pepito doesn’t think, he just acts. A different boy kicks the book out of Todd’s hands again, and Pepito pulls the hellfire to him. It warms his insides and curls around his clenched fists, merging its own bloodlust with his. How dare they say that to his Todd, how dare they hurt him, he’ll kill them-

“Stop it!”

The voice is annoying, a fly around Pepito’s head. He shakes it off.

“Pepito, stop!”

Todd’s face appears in front of his, and soft hands circle his wrists. The fire splutters. A blanket tossed over the inferno, smothering, smothering.

“Please, Pepito.” Todd presses in closer, hiding everything else from view, and forces Pepito to look him in the eye. He has kind eyes. Soft eyes. “Breathe. They’re not worth it.”

Pepito is aware of the sounds of the bullies in the background, but it’s muffled as if through glass. He glares at the center of Todd’s forehead. 

“They made you cry,” he snarls.

“And now they’ll leave me alone,” Todd says. “They’re scared of you.”

Leaning back, Pepito catches a glimpse of the slowest of the boys run around the corner of the school and out of sight. He could still kill them, walls can’t stop him, not anymore.

“I’m going to kill them,” Pepito vows, even as the hellfire drains out of him. Todd sighs in relief and rolls his eyes.

“You know your dad hates it when you do that,” Todd says. “Too much paperwork. Besides, you can just get them at the apocalypse.”

“That’ll take too long,” Pepito pouts. “Besides, I can’t do it without you.”

Todd shoots him a sharp look. “Pepito…”

“It’s not any job-”

“I said no!” Todd jerks away and goes to pick up his book. He actually looks mad.

“You don’t have to say yes!” Pepito moves in front of Todd. “Just let me explain it.”

“I don’t want to help end the world!” Todd snaps. “I’m not like you, I don’t kill people.”

“You don’t have to,” Pepito says, wheeling and dealing the best he can. “I’m the Beast, you’re-”

“I’m not anything!” Todd’s voice cracks, and Pepito closes his mouth so quickly his teeth hurt. They stand there in silence, just two more kids fighting on the field of dead grass that middle schoolers get to call a playground.

“I’m not anything,” Todd repeats. “I’m just a kid. Why isn’t that enough? Why can’t we just be friends?”

His eyes are bright with tears, and guilt twists Pepito’s heart. 

“Okay,” he relents. “We’re friends. I won’t ask you again.”

“Promise?” Todd asks.

“Promise.”

***

For Pepito, keeping a promise for four years is impressive. Which incidentally is how long he keeps his promise to Todd not to ask about coming to Hell again. 

They’re in high school now, and Todd’s grown about a foot between eighth grade and freshman year. Pepito’s not jealous, he doesn’t get _jealous_ , but he’s annoyed that Todd always smiles down at him and calls him cute when he’s angry. It makes his stomach flip and his face turn red. It also means people don’t pick on Todd quite as much, but Todd insists that’s because of all the attempted murder on Pepito’s part, which, okay, _maybe_. Pepito deserves a medal for not killing all those fuckers.

Todd will not be giving that medal anytime soon, but at least he’s not about to verbally kick Pepito’s ass for breaking his promise. He’s very drunk. Pepito’s drunk too, but he’s less drunk. Probably. He likes to think he’s less drunk. They (read: Pepito, with Todd reluctantly following) had broken into Father’s liquor cabinet while he’s on a date with Mom and were dizzyingly smashed within an hour. 

The conversation about Hell had gone something like this:

_Todd sprawls across the couch and rests his head in Pepito’s lap. His hair’s a little long, he’s been complaining about it, but Pepito thinks it looks good on him, a little more roguish instead of clean cut school boy. Pepito pushes a lock out of his face._

_“I nearly let my neighbor kill my dad when I was a kid,” he says, completely out of the blue._

_“What,” Pepito says._

_“My neighbor was a serial killer,” Todd says, and shrugs like it’s no big deal. “He didn’t like my dad, and one night when he was talking to me- my neighbor not my dad- Dad was having a bad night. Dad came into my room, and my neighbor hid under my bed, because Dad didn’t like him either. Dad was being mean, and my neighbor hit him with a toy truck. I thought he was going to kill him, but he didn’t. Said a kid needs a father. I would’ve let him, if he had killed him.”_

_Todd’s eyes drift closed, then snap back open. “Pepito, you’re hurting me.”_

_Pepito realizes his grip on Todd’s shoulder is white knuckled, and he eases the grip, brushing his thumb over the place it was digging in apology. “Did he ever hurt you?”_

_“Nah.” Todd waves a hand dismissively. “He likes me.”_

_“Likes,” Pepito says flatly. “I thought he was dead.”_

_“Did I say that?” Todd thinks about it for a long moment. “I don’t think I did. Anyway, he’s not dead, I don’t think. I haven’t seen him in a long time. He said he was going on vacation, but for a while he would still leave me stuff. Most of it was gross, but some of it was alright.” Todd gets quiet for a moment, and Pepito wonders if he should say something. “He was the first person who was nice to me before you.”_

_Fury boils to the surface, warming Pepito’s skin. How dare the world treat Todd like this. The hellfire comes easier with alcohol. He’ll burn it all down, he’ll punish everyone who even thought about hurting his Squee._

_“If you come to Hell,” Pepito says, unable to keep the growl entirely out of his voice, “no one will ever hurt you again.”_

Todd stares at him now, all confused and hopeful and despairing and looking so sweet that Pepito wants to gather him up and hide him away from the world.

“I don’t want to go to Hell,” Todd says softly. “I’m a good person.” 

“I know that,” Pepito says, scandalized. “I mean to keep you safe. If you took a job with me, you’d have status and wealth. No one would dare hurt you.”

Todd seems to be considering, and hope swells in Pepito’s chest. Then he opens his mouth and asks, “If you think I’m a good person, why do you keep offering me jobs in Hell?”

“Because you’d get treated better there than here,” Pepito says without hesitation. “You could be royalty.” 

“I don’t want to be royalty,” Todd says. “I just want to do the right thing.”

Pepito sighs and flops his head back against the couch. The alcohol is wearing off way to quickly for this conversation. Fuck this moral bullshit.

“Fuck this moral bullshit,” he says. “Do you wanna watch X-Files or not?”

“Yeah!” Todd’s worry is completely forgotten at the prospect of getting to watch Mulder and Scully bicker over aliens. When Pepito gets up to change the tape though, Todd gives a pathetic little “noooo” and clings to his legs. For a split second, Pepito wobbles, then falls back to the couch, narrowly avoiding sitting on Todd’s head.

“C’mon, Squee,” he huffs. “I need to put in the next video.”

“But you’re so comfy.” Todd puts his head back on Pepito’s lap. Pepito doubts he’s that comfy, he’s really skinny, but that doesn’t stop Todd from nuzzling at his thighs, nose brushing his knee, which, okay then. Pepito’s face heats up in a way that has nothing to do with hellfire. He stands up more forcefully this time.

“Just let me change the video,” Pepito says, and Todd pouts at him. 

“Fine.”

Pepito changes the tape, and when he sits back down, Todd wastes no time in curling up and resting his head on Pepito’s thigh, sighing contentedly. He’s asleep before the first episode is over, slowly but surely losing a fight to keep his eyes open. Careful not to wake him, Pepito rests a hand on his shoulder and traces absent minded circles with his thumb. Todd makes a small murmuring noise but doesn’t wake up, and Pepito’s ribs feel several sizes too small. 

He doesn’t want to lose this. Someday, soon, if his dad finds a False Prophet first, Pepito is going to lose Todd. Rubbing shoulders with the Antichrist isn’t enough to keep Todd from Heaven. When the world ends, Pepito is going to lose Todd forever.

***

Scout’s honor, the fourth time Pepito asks is a joke. Like, eighty percent. At least. It started that way at any rate. One of the big projects senior year was to make a writing blog and over the course of the semester fill it with five short stories, graded on stuff they had learned in the last semester. Pepito hates it, but Todd’s thriving. It’s only March, and he’s already way past the five stories.

All his stories are thinly veiled fictionalizations of his life, which means names get changed and some details are more dramatic than what actually happened, but they’re all horror and they’re all incredible. He’s got a huge cult following online, and last week he got sent to the principal’s office for the first time in his life for refusing to take down a story deemed inappropriate, which in this case meant the thinly veiled Not-Todd character had a crush on another boy. It’s Pepito’s favorite.

Mother says it’s catharsis for Todd to have this blog, but Pepito can’t help thinking about other uses for the blog. A prophet needs a following after all, and the False Prophet needs a bigger one.

Which is why Pepito, following in his tradition of shoving his entire foot in his mouth, says out of the blue, “You should write stories in Hell.”

“Excuse me?” Todd says, almost but not quite laughing. They’re sitting in Pepito’s room, pretending to watch whatever bad slasher Pepito picked out. Well, Todd is sitting on the floor, legs crossed with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, and Pepito’s entire upper half is dangling off the edge of the bed, thumping his feet against the mattress and pretending not to stare at Todd.

He’s gotten seriously beautiful over the past couple years. Pepito can’t even call him hot, although he can see the appeal of the word, he’s seen Todd with his shirt off, thank you very much. Still, there’s something about his big doe eyes and just barely rumpled hair, the curve of his mouth when he smiles, that can only be described as beautiful. And it’s not that sort of unattainable, renaissance painting of an angel (not what angels look like, by the way) kind of beautiful, he’s got a soft, worn kind of beauty. A warmth that makes you want to hold him close and protect him. Not because he’s weak, Todd could never be weak, but because he deserves it.

Or something like that.

“They’d be popular,” Pepito says, shrugging.

“You think so?” Todd asks. He twists around to look at Pepito properly, and fuck if he doesn’t look adorable.

“Dude,” Pepito snorts. “You wrote a story about an abused kid crying actual physical gems covered in blood, that’s raw as hell.”

“That’s not the point of the story,” Todd huffs, but he still looks proud. “It’s supposed to be about how greed hurts innocent people. It’s symbolism.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that.” Pepito waves his hand dismissively and rolls over so he’s viewing Todd upside down. Maybe it’s all the blood rushing to his head, but he looks even more beautiful like this, straightening up so he’s looking down at Pepito. 

“So, what?” Todd asks. “Be Hell’s personal story teller?”

“Something like that,” Pepito says.

“Well,” Todd muses, “it’s better than the other offers you’ve made me.”

“You haven’t let me tell you what the other offer is,” Pepito pouts. Todd flicks him lightly at the base of one of his horns. They’re longer now, nearly a full circle, and thicker. Also very sensitive. Pepito winces and swats Todd’s hand away.

“I don’t want to know,” Todd says. “I’m not going to be responsible for other people dying.”

“Don’t you want to be, though? Just a little?” Pepito rights himself so he’s sprawled on the bed, head propped up on one hand. “No one’s ever nice to you. Your dad’s a piece of shit. Doesn’t that make you mad?”

“Of course that makes me mad, but-”

“Then take revenge!” Pepito smacks the mattress for emphasis, which would’ve been more impressive if it wasn’t, you know, a mattress. “They’re bad people, they deserve it. They’ll all be in Hell soon anyway!”

“Then you take care of it!” Todd doesn’t yell, exactly, but Pepito can see he wants to.

“But-”

“You promised!” Todd’s voice wobbles dangerously. “You said I was enough. Just me, as your friend. You promised you wouldn’t ask again.”

“Todd, hey, woah,” Pepito says, scrambling off the bed to sit next to Todd.

“Why are you so focused on getting me to Hell?” Todd asks. “Do you even care about me?”

 _That_ brings Pepito up short. He freezes from where he was reaching out to Todd, to touch his face or shoulders, he isn’t sure.

“What?” he asks. “Of course I care about you. You’re my best friend.”

Todd sighs like he’s forcing something out of him. “I know,” he says eventually. “It’s just when you do shit like this, I feel like you’re just using me.” 

Pepito does touch Todd now, a hesitant brush of fingers over his shoulders that Todd leans into until he’s all but collapsed against Pepito. He’s almost burning hot against Pepito’s skin. Without hellfire to warm him, Pepito’s skin is corpse cold, something that keeps most people at arm’s length, but Todd runs warm and never hesitates to reach out to Pepito like a balm.

“Hey,” Pepito says. “I swear, on my father, I won’t ask you to join me again.”

Todd pulls back to look at him, and Pepito finds himself staring at his lips. They look so soft and inviting, and it would be so easy to lean in when they’re like this. He’s never felt warmth like Todd’s on his own mouth before. Would it burn? Pepito thinks he wants it to hurt, a punishment for making Todd doubt himself.

For just a moment, it looks like Todd is staring at Pepito’s mouth too, but then he looks him in the eyes and the moment ends. 

“Thank you,” Todd says. He relaxes back against Pepito so they’re sitting facing the tv. Todd laughs at something on screen, a bad special effect probably, but Pepito isn’t paying attention. He could stay like this forever, wrapped up in Todd and Todd wrapped up in him. He wants to stay like this forever. With a sigh, Pepito rests his cheek on Todd’s head and makes a promise to himself.

No matter what, he won’t lose Todd.

***

This time, Pepito keeps his word. If Todd doesn’t want to go to Hell and refuses to be a part of the end of times, Pepito can handle it. He lets Father start looking for a new False Prophet, and he forces down all the feelings he has for Todd. Rubbing shoulders with the Antichrist may not be enough to send Todd to Hell, but kissing him would.

At graduation, when Todd throws his arms around Pepito with enough enthusiasm to lift him off the ground (Pepito never did catch up to his height), Pepito does not close the gap between their mouths even with Todd almost glowing with happiness. When Todd goes off to college while Pepito stays behind to work with Father on apocalyptic plans, Pepito doesn’t let the hug linger, no matter how much he wants to bury his face in the crook of Todd’s neck and breathe him in. They text constantly while Todd’s at school, to the point where his parents don’t bother asking who’s got him smiling like that when he looks at his phone all sappy. Shit, he’s even on his best behavior when Todd brings home a boyfriend, a jock who tells Pepito far too many details of their sex life when he’s drunk. Pepito breaks the glass in his hand over that one, but he doesn’t interfere. 

He knows better than to get hands as filthy as his all over something as clean as Todd’s soul.

And then Todd calls him either very late Tuesday night or very early Wednesday morning, his voice rougher than if he’d been gargling pebbles. He sounds like he’s been crying, or he’s so upset he’s moved beyond crying.

“Jason and I broke up,” Todd says, hollow as a tomb.

“Fuck, dude, ‘m sorry.” Pepito rubs the sleep from his eye with the heel of his hand and fights a yawn. “What ha-ha-ha-” he loses the fight with the yawn. “What happened?”

“He cheated on me,” Todd chokes, and sucks in a hard breath like he’s barely keeping it together.

“Fucker!” Pepito sits upright and kicks off his blankets, wide awake. “That shit stained son of a bitch, I’ll kill him. Fucking hell, I’ll make him wish he’d never been born. Shove his entire upper body up his asshole and make him fuck himself from the inside out.” His elbow gets stuck in the shirt he’s trying to pull over his head while keeping the phone by his ear. “Damn it.”

Todd makes a sound that might generously be interpreted as a laugh. “Can you come over? I don’t want to be-”

Pepito appears in his room in a flash of fire.

“-alone.”

Pepito hangs up his phone and, tossing it to the side, pulls Todd into a hug. A shudder runs down Todd’s spine, and he goes limp except for the way his arms clutch at Pepito like a lifeline. The sudden weight doesn’t phase him at all, he just rubs soothing circles with his thumbs and relishes the warmth surrounding him. 

Once the shaking subsides (there were no tears, Pepito doubts there were any left), Todd straightens up and offers a weak, self deprecating smile. “I’m sorry,” he says, and before Pepito can tell him not to apologize, asks, “Do you want some pants?”

Confused, Pepito glances down to see that he’s clad only in his boxers and a soft black t shirt, now with freshly popped seams. Well then.

“Are we going anywhere?” Pepito asks.

Todd smiles, small but genuine. “I guess not.”

“C’mon, sit down,” Pepito says, and Todd drops gracelessly onto the bed. Pepito’s never actually been to Todd’s apartment, and it looks about one step above a slum. That old indignant anger starts to simmer, but he pushes it down. It’s not what Todd needs right now.

“I just wish I knew why I’m never enough,” Todd says suddenly. His arms are wrapped around his middle like he’s holding himself together. “It’s like no one’s ever satisfied with just me. They’re expecting some kind of miracle worker, and I’m _not_ , I’m just me. It’s not too much to ask that that be enough for people, is it?”

“Of course not,” Pepito says, and then, because his mouth has always moved faster than his brain, “You don’t have to be a miracle worker with me.”

Todd looks at him and squints, trying to figure out if Pepito’s insinuating what he thinks he’s insinuating. Pepito is trying to figure out if he’s insinuating that too, as a matter of fact. Too late to turn back now. He presses on.

“I’ve got all the power and armies of Hell,” Pepito says, desperately hoping he comes off as casual as he wishes he felt. “I’ve never wanted anything more or less than you, exactly as you are. If you were with me, I could protect you, I could-”

Todd buries his head in his hands, a picture of misery with his elbows on his knees. “Stop talking,” he says. “Just… stop.” 

“But-”

“You _swore_ you wouldn’t ask again!” Todd snaps, slightly muffled by his hands. “You promised!”

“I know, and that’s not what I was doing, but-”

“But what?” Todd lifts his head and glares at Pepito, pinning him in place like a search beam. “What’s so fucking important that you can’t accept me the way I am?”

“You know that’s not it!” Pepito says quickly.

“Then what is it?”

The anger that’s been burning in Pepito all night starts to rush to the surface. “You won’t let me tell you! I’ve been trying to explain it for years!”

“I don’t want you to explain it!” Todd stands up abruptly and starts pacing around the small space, running his hands through his hair so it stands up on end. “I don’t want to go to Hell, I don’t want to bring on the apocalypse, and I certainly don’t want people to die because of me.” 

He stops and turns to face Pepito. He looks exhausted and sad and so perfect Pepito can’t stand it. He sways forward, unable to stay away but unable to move from where his bare feet have become rooted to the carpet. Todd’s hair is wild, pretty and black, and even with evidence of grief and hardship scarred into his body and weighing down his shoulders, he’s the most beautiful thing Pepito’s ever seen. He can’t look away from his eyes, so dark the iris is indistinguishable from pupil.

For a moment, Pepito loves him so much he can’t breathe.

“Why can’t we just be normal?” Todd sighs.

The moment ends like a rubber band breaking.

“I’m not normal,” Pepito says, just above a whisper.

“What?” Todd asks.

“I’m not normal!” Pepito shouts, and Todd takes a step back. Pepito tries to reign in the sudden fury. “I’ve never _been_ normal! Shit, I’m the fucking Antichrist! You keep talking about not being enough, but you won’t even _talk_ about most of my life!”

“I just want you to stop trying to drag me to hell!” Todd crosses his arms.

“It’s not that easy!” Pepito says, and really, this is it. They’re finally getting to the heart of the thing.

“Why not?” Todd says.

“Because I-” Pepito cuts off, choking on the words. _Because I love you._ “Because-”

Todd heaves a sigh, all the fight draining out of him. “Just go,” he says.

“What?” Pepito feels colder than usual, fear wrapping icy fingers around his heart.

“Whatever this is,” Todd says, “it’s clearly more important than me, and that’s fine, I just can’t deal with it right now. We both need a breather.”

“But-”

“Pepito,” Todd says, looking anguished. “Please.”

Several long seconds pass. Pepito nods. _I love you._ He vanishes.

Pepito staggers when his feet hit the cold wooden floor of his room. The walls feel oppressive, too close, too dense. Cold fire burns through him, he’s going to burst with it. He’s going to burn everything down. He can’t breathe around rage and love and fear in his chest.

He screams.

***

As soon as Father tells him the news, Pepito goes to Todd. He doesn’t teleport, though it’d be easier and he wouldn’t have gotten quite so lost, but something tells him it’s important that he do things this way. 

Todd looks surprised when he answers the door. He’d moved since their argument, and while they still text, Pepito never learned his new address. It doesn’t matter. Pepito could find Todd on the other side of the would if he had to. He knows Todd’s soul better than any, except Mom’s. Finding him in the same city is easy.

“I know you don’t like to hear about Hell,” Pepito says before Todd can get out more that a polite hello, “but something’s coming and I need to tell you everything.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before Todd stands aside and gestures for Pepito to come in. This apartment is nicer than the last, more than one room with no visible mold. Todd gestures for Pepito to take a seat and pours them both coffee. It’s familiar and awkward all at once.

“So,” Todd says as he hands Pepito his coffee and sits on the opposite end of the couch from him, “the world is ending?”

Pepito pauses in the first sip of coffee (exactly the right amount of cream and sugar, fuck he loves this boy) to stare at him. “How’d you know?”

Todd shrugs and takes a sip of his own (black) coffee. “Figured it was the only thing to make you come pounding on my door again,” he says, and Pepito flinches. “It’s fine if you want to talk to me about it, but if you’re here to recruit me, you need to leave now.”

“I’m not,” Pepito says quickly. “I just want to tell you about- about everything.”

“So tell me,” Todd says. His face stays hard and guarded, and it strikes Pepito that somewhere in the intervening years, they both grew up. Obviously he’d known they were getting older, he’s not stupid, but somewhere in there, Todd had been forced to build a wall around that unwavering kindness and belief in good. The idea that Pepito himself might be responsible for some of that kills him.

“Okay,” Pepito says. “I, um…”

“Start at the beginning,” Todd says helpfully. Pepito nods and takes a gulp of coffee.

“How much do you know about Christian mythology?” he asks.

“Not a lot,” Todd admits. “My parents weren’t exactly the religious type.”

“That’s okay, it probably wouldn’t have helped with this deep lore shit anyway,” Pepito says. “So I’m the Antichrist, but that’s only half the equation. It’s the Beast and the False Prophet.”

“Yeah, I remember you calling yourself the Beast back in middle school,” Todd says.

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, it was a super edgy middle schooler thing to say.” Todd laughs, but quickly sobers. “Actually, I remember every time you asked me. They were the only times I ever wondered if you cared about me. It’s a hard thing to forget.”

“I’m sorry,” Pepito says.

“You don’t have to-”

“I do,” Pepito says. “I should’ve apologized for that shit ten years ago. You deserve it, and you deserve better than me.”

“Pepito-”

Pepito scoots closer to Todd, setting his mug on the worn coffee table, and takes Todd’s face in his hands. “I’m so sorry for ever making you doubt that I care about you. I’m sorry for pushing you too hard. I’m sorry I didn’t apologize sooner.”

As Todd smiles and covers Pepito’s hands with his own, it occurs to Pepito that somewhere down the line, he grew up too.

“Thank you,” Todd says. “I’ve already forgiven you, you know.”

Pepito releases Todd’s face and picks up his coffee. “Yeah, I know.” He slouches back on the couch. “You’re too good for me.”

“Probably,” Todd says, then smiles. “Anyway, you’re the Beast?”

Pepito nods. “The False Prophet works with me. They amass a following to turn people away from the man upstairs, and when the following is big enough, I show up. The False Prophet tells everyone that I’m the second coming or something similar, and that they need to swear loyalty to me. Since I’m the Antichrist, they end up swearing loyalty to Satan, and I get to kill them.”

“And you wanted me to do that.” Todd’s smile is gone, and he’s not asking a question.

“At first,” Pepito says, and he doesn’t hang his head in shame, as much as he wants to. “Dad said I got to pick who I wanted for a False Prophet, and I saw potential in you, back when we first met. I fixated on you, and somewhere down the line, it stopped being about getting you to be the False Prophet and started being about keeping you near me.”

“What do you mean?” Todd asks. Pepito can almost hear the uptick in his heartbeat.

“Dad’s picked a new False Prophet for me,” Pepito says, unable to keep the resentment out of his voice. “One of those megachurch preachers, a real shitty piece of work. All I need to do is say ‘yes,’ and the apocalypse starts. It won’t start right away, but it will start. People are going to die, and eventually you’ll be one of them. I can’t protect you, and-”

“Pepito,” Todd says, alarmed.

“You’re going to go to Heaven when you die,” Pepito says, and he’s less shocked than he thought he’d be when tears start to prick his eyes. “I’ll never get to see you again.”

“I’m not that good,” Todd says, and Pepito shakes his head.

“You’re the most genuinely good person I’ve ever met,” he says. “You’re the only purely good human I’ve met in my life.” Oh, and his mom. Sorry, mom. 

“Well there has to be something we can do,” Todd starts, but Pepito shakes his head again.

“Just like you to try to stop the apocalypse,” Pepito says, lips twisting in a small smile. Todd frowns at him.

“I don’t think I’d help you, though,” Pepito says, “even if I could.”

“I didn’t say-”

“It’s not just that I was literally born to do it,” Pepito interrupts. “I’ve seen how the world treats good people, I’ve seen how it’s treated you-”

“Pepito-”

“-and if I can do something about it, I can’t justify doing nothing. All good people will go to Heaven, and I’ll spend the rest of my life punishing people who hurt them. It’s not perfect, but I think that’s a pretty good ending.”

“Are you done?” Todd asks after a few seconds. Pepito nods. “Good, because that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean?” Pepito asks. His heart clangs in his chest, dropping and twisting. 

“I mean,” Todd says, and scrubs a hand through his hair so it sticks up. “Will I be able to visit you in Heaven?”

“No,” Pepito says. “You won’t want to.”

“Yes, I will.” Todd looks offended at the idea. 

“No, you won’t,” Pepito says. “Heaven fills you with so much contentment, you’ll never want anything again. You’ll never leave the chair they put you in. You’ll forget about me and be happier for it.”

Todd snorts. “That’s bullshit. I don’t want that.”

“I think you’ll change your mind,” Pepito says. “Everyone does.”

“I won’t,” Todd insists. “I don’t want Heaven if you’re not there. I want to be with you.”

“I can’t give you that,” Pepito says, even as he mentally kicks himself. “You don’t want to go to Hell, and I can’t-”

“Pepito, listen to me.” Todd grabs Pepito’s shoulders and, when Pepito refuses to meet his eyes, tilts his chin up until he has no choice but to face whatever’s there. “I don’t want to go to Heaven. I want to go to Hell. There’s no point in an afterlife if you’re not there.”

It’s like a punch to the gut and a rush of adrenaline and a roller coaster free fall all at once, the terrible realization that Todd would do anything for him. He would sacrifice everything for Pepito. Here he is, on a ratty couch in an almost decent apartment in a not quite rough part of town, offering his immortal soul up on a platter because he cares about Pepito. His chest burns, and he doesn’t realize there are tears in his eyes until they start to roll down his cheeks.

“Jesus, Pepito.” Todd wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb and cups the nape of Pepito’s neck in one hand. “I thought this is what you wanted?”

Pepito lets out a watery laugh. “It is,” he says around a lump in his throat. “Fuck, it is, but I can’t just give it to you.”

“What do you mean?” Todd asks. He hasn’t let go of Pepito’s neck, and Pepito leans into the soothing warmth.

“I mean what I said earlier,” Pepito says. “You’re going to Heaven when you die whether you want to or not.”

“What can I do to change that?” Desperation is starting to creep into Todd’s voice, and if the whole situation weren’t so hideously ironic, Pepito would feel it too.

“Anything you _can_ do is something you wouldn’t be _able_ to do,” Pepito says bitterly. “It’d take something really bad to trump all the good you’ve done.”

“Oh,” Todd says softly. “Is there something your dad could do?”

“No,” Pepito says, and glares at the cooling coffee in his hands. “I just have to accept that everything I love about you is what’s going to keep us apart.”

Todd looks a little like he’s been clubbed on the back of the head and is still trying to process that he was hit in the first place. Pepito bites his tongue so hard it bleeds for a second before sealing closed. He hadn’t meant do say the L word, but there it was. Any pretenses about his motivations for the past seven years, shattered because of one poorly thought out sentence.

“How long?” Todd finally asks, after they’ve both finished their coffee in a silence that’s less awkward than Pepito thought it’d be.

Pepito swallows his last mouthful and without hesitation says, “All my life.”

“Seriously?” Todd lets out a small huff of laughter.

“You really think I’d lie about that?” Pepito scowls.

“No,” Todd says. “I think we’re idiots.”

“What do you mean?” Pepito repeats Todd’s line back to him, and Todd smiles, radiant and perfect.

“I mean I’ve been in love with you since eighth grade,” Todd says. They stare at each other for several seconds, and then Pepito smiles. A giggle forces its way out of his chest. Todd smiles back. Pepito laughs harder, and Todd joins in, and then they’re leaning against each other cackling like hyenas.

“We’re so stupid,” Pepito gasps. 

“Morons,” Todd agrees, and dissolves into giggles. Eyes bright, cheeks flushed red, tousled hair, and a smile that could stop evil in its tracks, Todd looks happier than Pepito’s seen him in a long time. He’s resplendent with it.

He’s beautiful. The thought doesn’t shock Pepito. He’s known Todd was beautiful for nearly a decade, and he’s known his soul was beautiful for longer. The only difference is now he can do something about it.

Pepito crawls into Todd’s lap, and the laughter stops abruptly. The look in Todd’s eyes can only be described as awe.

“Can I kiss you?” Pepito asks.

“God, _please_.” Todd pulls him down before Pepito can make the obvious joke about the devil.

There’s heat when their lips touch, there’s always heat when Todd is involved, but it doesn’t burn like Pepito thought it would. Instead it’s as slow and warm as laying in the sun in early summer. The feeling radiates out from wherever they touch. Pepito cradles Todd’s hands in both of his, absently tracing his thumbs across sharp cheekbones, and shivers at the almost purring noise Todd makes in his throat. An arm wraps around his waist and pulls him closer, and Todd’s other hand tangles in the hair at the base of his right horn.

Pepito gasps, and the kiss, which until now has been a chaste moving of closed lips, abruptly deepens as Todd runs his tongue across Pepito’s lip, asking permission to go further. He gets it. Sliding his hands down to Todd’s shirt and fisting them in the fabric, Pepito hauls them impossible closer and licks into Todd’s mouth. The taste of black coffee is overwhelming, but there’s something sweet under there, something fruity. Strawberries, maybe. Todd makes an overwhelmed noise and gives it as good as he gets it, coaxing noises out of Pepito he’d never admit to making. 

It’s impossible for Pepito to guess how long they stay like that, but when they finally stop, his neck aches from the angle and his lips are swollen and tingling. He can’t see his hair, but if it looks anything like Todd’s it probably looks like a recently abandoned bird’s nest. 

“I love you,” Todd says.

“I love you,” Pepito says. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to get over the feeling of telling Todd he loves him. They could be at the end of eternity, and he’ll still get that small rush in his stomach at the way Todd lights up.

“I’ll do it,” Todd says, and maybe they’ve been making out too long, because Pepito’s completely lost the thread of the conversation.

“Do what?”

“The False Prophet thing,” Todd says. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” That probably came out sharper that it should’ve, and combined with Pepito climbing off Todd’s lap to relieve his neck, it doesn’t look great. Todd looks hurt.

“I thought you wanted that,” Todd says.

“I do,” Pepito says, and tucks himself against Todd’s side, careful of his horns. “I want it so bad, but-” he sighs and threads his fingers with Todd’s “-you don’t, and that’s more important. I’m done trying to make you do things just because I want it.”

Todd kisses his temple. “I know,” he says. “I’m not offering because you want it. I’m doing it because I want to stay in Hell with you.”

Pepito’s heart leaps in his chest, and he feels like he might burst with _something_ , but he has to ask. “Are you sure?”

Todd pulls back to look Pepito in the eye and presses a kiss to the knuckles of their joined hands. The simple action sends shivers down Pepito’s spine.

“I, Todd Casil,” Todd says, “offer myself up as your False Prophet, to be your mouth for the end of times.”

“I accept,” Pepito says. Todd beams and kisses him soundly. When they part, Pepito smirks and says, “You didn’t have to be so dramatic, you know.”

“You’re one to talk.” Todd smiles, then hesitates. “Is that it? Am I the False Prophet?”

Pepito starts to answer, but realizes he doesn’t actually know the answer. If he’s being honest, he didn’t think he’d ever get this far.

“We should probably tell my dad,” he says.

Todd nods and squeezes his hand, and they disappear in a burst of flame.


End file.
